


Bullet of reminders

by lost_inhibitions



Series: Darkiplier Drabbles [1]
Category: Darkiplier - Fandom, Youtubers, markiplier - Fandom
Genre: Darkiplier Mark Fischbach, Gen, Post-Who Killed Markiplier?, Who Killed Markiplier?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-14
Updated: 2018-07-14
Packaged: 2019-06-10 06:18:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 693
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15285525
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lost_inhibitions/pseuds/lost_inhibitions
Summary: The bullet that was shot in the DA is still there and being that the bullet is made from copper...it starts to rust inside of Dark's body. So… He decides to get it out.





	Bullet of reminders

**Author's Note:**

> For all the works in this little series, I call Dark, Damien because I feel silly calling him Dark all the time. Also he feeds on emotion through touch.

The room was dimly lit from the light outside. Dark, or Damien as he was going by nowadays, had tried to shut the rays out, but he couldn’t quite get it to stick. He…didn’t exactly want any unnecessary spectators.

On the counter was a scalpel, tweezers, gauze, cleansing swabs and sutures. The bullet lodged in his stomach was causing him enough discomfort when he…did basically anything that he decided to take care of it himself. In front of him was a mirror and large lamp aimed directly at his exposed stomach.

  
He watches himself for a moment attempting to decided how exactly to do about this. If he fucked up too badly, this body would be ruined and he couldn’t get another one on short notice. However, overthinking it would surely lead to his downfall as well.

Without hesitation he gingerly picks up scalpel and slices into himself. He closes his eyes for a moment trying not to tense anything. Blood began to trickle down his front and drip down his leg. Leading to a pool at his foot. From there, he can feel his intestines threatening to slip out. He ignore the pain. Focusing on the task at hand. However, he apparently had different plans. A scream escapes him and he trashes about, shoving a hand inside of fast and hard.Then.He’s fine again. Damien resist the urge to crack his neck settling on gritting his teeth. Pain was searing through him now, but the bullet was clearly in his grasp. As slowly as he can he pulls it out, then drops it on the counter. His heart was pounding in his chest. Hard. He was starting to feel faint. A quick glance down on the hard wood floor gives him all the information he needed. He didn’t have time to play it safe. So with the threaded suture. He sets to work. In. Out. Ignore the blood. Ignore the pain. His fingers twitch. His neck begs to be popped. With one last thug he pulls the stitch tight, cuts the thread and collapses into a chair. Blood soaked, naked, and twitching like mad. His hands and muscles convulsing like mad. Rage boiling in his chest. Why did HE have to suffer while Mark got whatever he wanted. It was disgusting. Time passes slowly has his anger simmer and subsides. Only now did he notices how hard he had been clenching his jaw. _Crack. Crack. Stretch. Twitch. Crack._ Clean up the blood.Right.So he stands. Walks around to the kitchen. Reaching up to a shelf he can feel the stitches pull and his skin stiffens at the stress. Why did he have to SUFFER!! HASN’T IT BEEN ENOUGH?! _CRACK CRACK **SMASH**_

The bottle of hydrogen peroxide lies broken at his feet. He exhales sharply. His hand twitches.Once again he reaches up to gather the extra bottle he had bought.

He sets to work. Purposefully trying to keep his mind clear. Instead focusing on how the two substances interacted. Soft pink bubbles that steadily turned white were now occupying the hardwood floor. With the paper towels he mops it up, tosses it in the trash and sets to work on the glasses. This job was easier as it was mostly large pieces. In. Out. In. Out. _Crack._  
Clean yourself off.

Standing with the shards he dumps them in thrash, discards his gloves, and heads to the rest room. He couldn’t fully shower, not now. So he takes a damp wash cloth and wets it. Focusing in around the wound and the trails of blood on his legs. He should shave. He couldn’t see any of blood through all of that hair. Deciding that was good enough he stops to look at himself in the mirror. Watching for any signs of…anything. _Crack. Crack_. Hues of blue and red jump from his body. It really highlights just how grey he was. How did this eve-Sleep. Sleep.

With no other thought he turns to his room. The apartment was small and quiet. Just how he needed it in a time like this.

_Drip_

_Drip_

_Drip_

_Drip_

Perfectly. Quiet.

_Drip_

_Drip_


End file.
